Home
by quelirain
Summary: In a quiet moment during the war, Trowa discovers what home really is. [complete]


Title: Home   
Author: quelirain (insanewritinggirl @ yahoo.com)   
Pairings: none   
Rating: G   
Feedback: Always welcome   
Archive: www.fanworkrecs.com (thanks, suzume!) and eventually on fanfiction.net.   
  


**SPOILER ALERT**   


SPOILERS: LOTS. Specifically--big spoilers: episode 28, 36; minor spoilers: 19, 21-26, 34-36. If you don't want to know, then stop now; the notes include a spoiler as well.   


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Notes: This takes place somewhere during episode 36, the night after Duo finds Trowa at the circus. (For those who need a refresher, at this point Trowa is in his amnesiatic phase and does not recognize Duo when he confronts Trowa after his performance. Trowa freaks out at Duo's appearance and Catherine rushes in to kick Duo out.) I am attempting to write in-canon. Also note that the news clips aren't necessarily accurate--they reflect the spin put on the situation by Those In Power.   


Disclaimer: **poetry alert** 

Oh my, Bandai, you've made me see   
You own Gundam Wing, not me,   
along with SOTSU and all of their crew.   
I don't own it, please don't sue.   


Key:   
electronics>>   
::sound effect::   


~fic begins here~ 

War broke out in Sanq kingdom this afternoon as a rebel faction seeking to unseat the pacifist state's leader, Relena Peacecraft, attacked Sanq's capital. Miss Peacecraft has been sent to a secure location, where she has agreed to remain under the protection of the Romafeller Foundation until the rebels can be extracted from Sanq. We go live to the scene-->> 

::click:: 

--inherent paradox of absolute pacifism. With only their ideals to protect them, Pacifists shall die, leaving only those who fight for pacifism to promote it--certainly a hypocritical standpoint for those who fight to take. 

I must disagree, Professor, on the simple basis of who is in a better position to decry war and violence than those who have perpetrated it and seen the results firsthand? These are powerful witnesses-->> 

::click:: 

"Trowa." 

He didn't glance away from the flickering light and sound of the vid. He knew the voice, had known who it was just by the rhythm of her footfalls as she stepped out of the bedroom to see what he was doing. 

Catherine. 

The lithe, brown-haired girl who had brought the umbrella when he was walking in the rain. The girl who claimed to be his sister. The girl who insisted he was from the circus and always would be, but he could sense the fear in her each time she repeated herself. 

He tuned back into vid. There was a speaker at a podium, occasionally pausing to dab her eyes with a white handkerchief. 

Lady Anne was an inspiration for all of us prior to her assassination at the hands of the terrorists. We will follow her lead and continue to work with OZ to usher in-->> 

"Trowa, it's after two a.m. You have to be up for practice tomorrow, remember?" 

--a new era of peace. If we stand united-->> 

"Not only that, but you're making it impossible to sleep." 

--we cannot fail! ::applause::>> 

::click:: 

"Trowa, go to bed." 

--rumors that the resurging charge appeared to be led by a Gundam are completely unsubstantiated-->> 

It fell upon him again, a pulsating cold and blackness that made him shudder, his eyes wide and unable to look away from the screen as a man with a thick, square jaw and weathered black hair that only made his already-dark complexion seem darker continued to move his lips in, Trowa thought, a most peculiar fashion, as if whispering "Gundam" over and over again. 

--although eyewitness reports identify at least three distinct Gundam sightings in Sanq over the past few weeks-->> 

"Oh, Trowa..." 

The remote control was lifted from Trowa's unresisting hand and the vid screen turned off. Warm arms found their way to his shoulders, pulling him close to a soft body. Fingers pressed into his jawline, turning him firmly from the television's afterglow. "Trowa, it's all right. You're not going back there. Not ever." 

Fear shot through him, making him tremble. He felt her breathe deeply and whisper his name; as she did, the panic receded. 

"It's okay. You're safe here. I'll take care of you. I won't let you go. I won't let you go," she repeated, softer this time, and accompanied by a gentle touch on his cheek. He leaned into it. Her words and her touch warmed, and he felt the world come back to him. 

He closed his eyes, this time seeing the boy from this afternoon with the bright blue eyes and the stubby, upturned nose. He felt himself rock in rhythm with the remembered phantom of hands on his shoulders, shaking him and spouting words that burned into his brain, relentlessly driving toward something, something he had to remember, it was important that he remember... 

There was something the boy had said, something about "A hero..." Trowa breathed. 

"No! You've done enough!" Catherine's arms cinched around him tightly. "You don't need him! You don't want to be like him! Trowa--" Her voice dissolved around a sob. "You don't--" 

Trowa stilled, feeling Catherine take a few more deep breaths. 

"I'm sorry. It's just that I don't want anything to happen to you. You're all the family I've got." Her chest heaved. 

"Who is Heero?" he said as gently as he could. 

He said it the way the boy had said it this afternoon, lengthening and tightening the short e to a longer, tenser i, and flapping his tounge once against the bump just behind his teeth for the r sound. 

Catherine inhaled sharply. "Heero?" she repeated, mimicking his pronunciation. "Then you didn't-- you--" She swallowed. "Hero," she said flatly, shortening the e again and almost swallowing the r at the back of her throat. "You don't need to be a hero." 

"Was he the boy that was here this afternoon?" 

At the thought of the boy, he felt the chill come down again, but this time he was expecting it, and he shoved it to the back of his mind. 

Catherine sighed. "I don't know who that was. Some crazy, I guess." 

"He knew my name." 

"A lot of people know your name." 

"He acted as if he knew me." 

"Crazies do that." 

"You told him that even though he was my friend, I wasn't going to fight any more." 

At that, Catherine froze, even holding her breath for a moment. Then she shifted, sliding out from behind him to stand up. "It's nearly three and we have an early practice. I don't want you getting hurt because you're exhausted. We don't need to discuss this now." 

She offered her hand to help Trowa up. He didn't move or answer. He felt the wave of panic growing, but he held his silence. 

"You and that silence!" Catherine finally spat. "Don't you understand there's a war going on out there? People are dying by the thousands! Do you want to go back there and be blown apart like Heero was?" 

Fear trickled across Trowa's shoulder blades and up his spine to the base of his hairline. He began to shiver. 

"What happened to me, Catherine?" he asked quietly. 

Catherine raked her fingers through her loose brown curls. "I don't know what happened to you. I was walking in the rain, and I found you. I don't know where you were or how you got here. All I know is that you were confused and alone, and all I wanted to do was take you home and keep you safe. Isn't that enough?" 

Trowa shook his head, willing the shivers away. "But it's not affecting just you. The circus moved early because of me." 

"That's not true," she answered instantly. 

"I heard you talking to the ringmaster. He was worried that I would get involved with--" He swallowed, driving down the chill yet again. "With the war." 

"That's not true!" Catherine repeated. 

"If I'm a danger to the circus, then I need to leave--" 

He was cut off by the strength of her arms squeezing him, her chin resting on his shoulder as she spoke. "This is your home. We are your family, all of us. Family doesn't walk out on family." She pulled back just enough to loosen an arm, raising her hand to brush his forelock to one side. She kissed him lightly on the forehead, then closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his. "This is your home. We need you here." 

"But that's just why I should go," he said quietly. "If I am a danger to my family, then I should not be here. I don't want you to be afraid, Catherine." 

She rocked her forehead from side to side against his, her expression unreadable. "The only thing I am afraid of is losing you again," she said, her voice cracking. 

"But why would you lose me if I were to leave?" Trowa said. "From what you've told me, I've left and returned before. Why should this be different?" 

Her eyes flicked open, and he heard the hitch in her voice when she asked, "You mean that?" 

"I found my way back here even though I couldn't remember who I was." Gently, he reached out to place his palm against her cheek, feeling dampness there. "You are my family, and the circus is my home. Where else would I return to?" 

Her hand rose to cover his, squeezing to punctuate her words. "You believe that, Trowa. Your home is here, with me, with the circus. We're your family. We love you. You hold on to that." 

Her tears were running freely now. She held his hand against her face, placing her free hand on his cheek. Trowa reached up to let his hand cover hers. "I'm sorry I upset you." 

She shook her head. "It's all right. We're family. We're supposed to upset each other, right?" She let her head drop. 

Gently, he squeezed her hand. 

Her head lifted, and he felt some of the tension that radiated from her ease. She disentangled herself from him as she pushed upward, standing, and offered him her hand again. This time, he took it, and she pulled him up off the couch. 

He allowed himself to be led to a second bunk in the other room, where Catherine had been sleeping. She tucked him in. He heard her fumbling in the dark before she slipped into the other bunk. 

He closed his eyes, but the images he found there were ones of another bright eyes, bright blue eyes that threatened to swallow him whole if he continued to look. A boy's eyes, sweet, innocent, haunting for just a moment before disappearing in orange-red flames that licked Trowa's face. Then the memory of pain, and always the sound of laughter, a wild laughter that made Trowa shiver in spite of the flames. 

When he opened his eyes again, the room was dark and still, save for Catherine's rhythmic breathing in his ear. He reached up and behind him and found smooth, warm skin. "Catherine?" he whispered. 

"Shh, Trowa," she said quietly. "Go to sleep, now." 

He curled into her, his head pillowed on her breast, and felt her arm come down and around him to stroke his back. 

Yes. This was home. 

~owari~   
aug 2002   



End file.
